* A midnight ride * I am beset * A flicker of hope

Finding myself in my chambers moments later, I dismissed Anna, then let the tears pour forth. They came in torrents, followed by great sobs which set my flesh shaking and quivering. When, finally, the emotion had subsided, I sat, spent, on the edge of my bed, retracing the elation and the rage of that evening. Over the past several hours, I had been both revered and reviled, lauded and lambasted. Those same traits had been extolled by the Count as virtues and denounced as vices by the man who would be my suitor. I barred the door to my chambers, then brazenly stripped off all my clothes and positioned myself before the looking glass that I might see myself in the light of honest appraisal.

My reflection did not displease me. My waterfall of brilliant red hair cascaded over my shoulders and framed my soft face. My eyes, green tending towards brown, sparkled in their moistness and contrasted startlingly with the paleness of my skin and the rich pink of my small and pouting lips. My cheeks had rounded as I grew more stout, so that they now had taken on a cherubic fullness, while my chin had lost much of its apparent resoluteness as it blended into my slender neck and gently sloping shoulders.

My eyes next fell on my full bosoms, drinking in their contradictory attributes of firmness and softness. They would have been a wicked attraction at the French courts of yore, I thought, as I supported their weight from underneath with my cupped hands and imagined what scandal I would cause were I to come to court today with my dress cut so that my reddish-brown nipples were practically exposed! And as my hand brushed the tender tip of my teat, I imagined the joy, both physical and spiritual, I would experience when I had a child to suckle at my breast.

Next, my attention was focused on my abdomen. Beginning beneath my bust, my stomach began its swell outward, its plushness made even more pronounced by the gastronomic excesses of that night. I ran my hands over the soft and swollen flesh, taking decadent delight in my body's new-found proportions. My hands began caressing every square inch of my fleshy acreage, from my sides to my navel, then from my breasts to where my paunch began to fold over itself, threatening with further growth to make my private parts even more private.

My physique was pleasing to me and, though it may simply be a vanity, I was reminded of the rotund women who populate the paintings of Sir Peter Paul Rubens. We had encountered the Master's works in many a palace and museum on the Continent, and each time, I was taken by the sensuality inherent in the abundant folds of flesh with which their stout frames were blessed. As my body grew more corpulent over the months we travelled, I felt more and more affinity for these paramount specimens of femininity.

As I brushed the soft and downy fur that surrounded my womanhood, my mind wandered to some of the more salacious tales I had accidentally come across while lost in the stacks of the London library. One in particular described an Oriental practice whereby the female may stimulate herself into a state of sexual ecstasy beyond even that pleasure reportedly experienced by men in the marriage bed. When I first came across that passage, I felt a natural revulsion at such an unnatural act, but in examining my reactions, I realised that my response had been dictated by my subsumption of the present rules of propriety, and was not a product of rational thought. Upon further consideration, I realised that nothing the human body can do should be consider revolting, for everything we are and do is the result of a long process of Evolution and has some purpose in the continuation of our Species.

While my mind became lost in this conversation with myself, my hand had been industrious on its own and had begun probing further down between my thick thighs. My private parts had reacted to these caresses by lubricating themselves, thus making it easier for my fingers to slip inside my nether reaches. It was all I could do, at first, to keep from recoiling at my careless breaking one of Society's taboos, but slowly, I allowed myself to feel the strange and exciting pleasure that was spreading like a conflagration throughout my body. Staggering backwards, drunk with sensation, I fell on the bed, my fingers never leaving their station nor interrupting their ministrations. I lifted my legs high in the air to enable my probing digits to find their way deeper within me, and they complied, taking up a rhythm of advancing and retreating that was feeding my growing frenzy. My breath began coming in deep gasps, my spine was arching furiously and through half-closed eyes, I glimpsed my hardened nipples, my heaving belly, my quivering thighs, all in incessant motion, all propelling me towards an experience I had never before felt in my life. My vision went black as every fibre of my consciousness exploded in a cataclysm of sensation which I had never before imagined and which I knew I would never forget.

Whether I was lost for hours or mere minutes, I shall never know, but upon my return to this world, I was suddenly brought up short from my comfortable reverie by a peal of very loud laughter seeping through the walls from the ongoing party. I tried to ignore it and to return to that slow nirvana in which I had briefly lived, but every tinkle of glass against glass, every snippet of conversation, every strain of music, interfered with my mood. It became clear to me that leaving the party was not enough; instead I felt the need to get out of the house and away from the rudeness I had been exposed to.

Knowing that I had planned on an early-morning ride, Anna had laid out my jodhpurs and my blouse and cloak, despite her disapproval of a woman wearing a man's clothing. I should have liked to have her assistance in dressing, but my plan was to leave the house in secret, so I attired myself, struggling mightily with the waist-buttons which were not intended to encase a stomach as swollen as mine. Finally, clad in the appropriate garments, I made my way through the servants' stairway and snuck outside to the stables.

Although it was late in the year, winter's icy chill had not yet settled in on the land. Nonetheless, it was a brisk and cloudless night, glorious under the full moon. All was still in the stables except for the soft whinny from Polynesia upon my entrance. He was facing me in his stall, almost as if he had been expecting my company; his great velvety snout nuzzled against my breast, bringing a strange hint of my recent ecstasy to my spine. He gave me no trouble, accepting bit and bridle, blanket and saddle with uncustomary ease. When I led him out of the barn, he waited patiently for me to close the stable door before mounting him, and kept his agitation in check as I struggled to hoist my overfed body into position. Finally, when I was firmly seated, I gave his shoulder a gentle touch of the crop and we were off.

Riding a horse in the darkness is a singular experience, and Polynesia's jet-black coat, almost invisible when we crossed into a shadow, only added to the reckless thrill. Excitement and danger seemed to lurk at every turn as we raced across the landscape, seemingly flying over the rich meadows and fields which surrounded the manor. I was posted in my saddle, as we galloped league after league, my full stomach moving at a different rhythm to the rest of my body, its contents sloshing and reminding me of the various pleasures I had experienced that night.

When we had been riding for some time and had slowed to a canter, I saw a shadow cross our path near a thicket of woods which we were approaching. Knowing that wolves had been sighted recently in the area, I thought it would be prudent of me to turn around and start back towards the estate. But, when I brought Polynesia about, I could see another shadow behind us, this one approaching at a furious pace. I commanded the horse to run with crop and heels and voice, and he set off like a falcon in a dive, straight for the thicket. He ignored my attempts to steer him and instead aimed for the spot where I had seen the first beast. I knew then that my steed was beyond control and all I could do was hold on for my life and try to avoid being stabbed by one of the tangled branches in the wood.

As we crossed into the stand of trees, my guess as to our pursuer proved correct as we narrowly missed being caught in the snapping jaws of the yellow-eyed creature when he launched himself at us. Although I escaped injury, Polynesia was not so lucky, sustaining a dreadful gouge in his flank, not far from where my thigh was gripping him. Despite the attention required to maintain my perch during our unholy rush through dangerous and unfamiliar ground, I felt it necessary to try to staunch some of the blood, and removed my cloak for that purpose. I had begun ministering to the wound, drawing the blood into my garment, when suddenly the cloak was snatched from my grip and I could see one of the wolves behind us, rending the material with his horrible teeth.

I was more frightened at that moment than I had ever been in my life. Polynesia's wound was bleeding profusely and I was certain that he would not have the strength to ride at that pace for very much longer. Asserting control for the first time since we had met our pursuers, I pulled on the reins with all of my strength and brought him up to a halt. Quickly turning my injured companion to face the coming onslaught, he nearly threw me when he reared up on his hind legs and kicked mightily as the first wolf propelled himself towards the stallion's neck. Fortune was with us, because Polynesia's mighty attack caught the wolf in mid-leap and cleanly snapped the beast's neck, so that by the time his body hit the ground, all the life had gone from it. I cheered for a moment, patting my mount's shoulder and whispering "Good Boy!"

Wondering what to do about the other wolf, I began searching my small saddlebag, hoping to find something that might assist me in this dangerous battle. Then I remembered the small knife in its sheath which was sewn to the saddle, placed there after I had once become nearly inextricably tangled by my hair in a bramble patch. I pulled the five inch blade from its rest and wondered what I could possible do to my demonic attacker with such an ineffectual weapon. I did not have the luxury of much time for reflection, because at that very moment, I was surprised by a flying bundle of sinew and fur, jaws outstretched and aiming straight for me. The hand of some primal instinct caused me to feint to one side at exactly the right moment, my clasped and weaponed hands outstretched in the animal's path.

I felt the sharp steel enter the creature's throat and its momentum carried it over the blade, inflicting a great rent in its chest, and taking me along with it for a headlong spill to the ground. I landed next to the struggling beast, and despite its murderous intent of just a moment past, I felt compassion for it as it died; its silvery coat became drenched in blood, it's chest gurgled in the attempt to draw breath and its yellow-eyes slowly clouded over. It was ridiculous, I know, but sitting on the ground next to this dead beast, I felt a great respect and a profound sorrow; in that spirit, I reached over and closed the animal's eyes.

It wasn't until I tried to stand up a few moments later that I realised I had injured myself in the fall. Besides the bruises one would expect to incur on falling from a horse, my ankle had twisted severely and would not bear me. I berated myself for the first time about my increased weight. "If you weighed eight stone, like you did before you became such a voluptuary," I said to myself, "instead of the twelve stone you carry today, your ankle might be able to support you!" I struggled and crawled my painful way over to Polynesia, then used his sturdy body to inch myself up. The pain was so intense as I used my last reserves of strength to mount my steed, that I nearly fell faint. Then, when sitting in the saddle, trying to regain my breath, I became aware of the severity of my predicament. I could not walk home in this condition and Polynesia was gravely injured and not capable of carrying me for any great distance. In addition, I had been so turned around during our reckless flight, that I was not even sure which direction we should travel. The trees were unfamiliar and even the stars seemed strange for this time of year. There was no one even who knew that I had left, and therefore, no one would come looking for me before breakfast.

There was a soft breeze at that moment, and when I lifted my head to drink of its coolness, I suddenly saw a light. It was flickering, and at first I thought with great relief that it might be one of the local farmers coming to see about the commotion. But after some time of it not approaching, I realised that the light was coming from the window of a building, appearing to flicker only because of the gyrations of the tree branches.

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